Emile was decidedly well dressed for a waiter, and beyond the fact that he wore mutton chop whiskers, a cleanly shaven face, a bald head, and had the habit of inadvertently placing his napkin under his arm and stepping across the room with his head in the air, no one would have suspected that he was in that line of business. He was a coward at heart, and was one of those sneaks who are always hanging about street corners--in fact he made street corners a speciality--and he was ever on the watch for something to turn up which might add to his income. These blackmailers--for that is what they really are--abound in all large cities, and seem without exception to attach themselves to one or more of the fair sex, whose inherited instincts of virtue have long since evaporated, and who night after night frequent one or other of the music halls or cafés, for the purpose of making fresh conquests. These pimps exert an evil influence over the minds of the girls, and by slow degrees insidiously drag them down to their own infamous level. Always keeping in the background, they are never seen by the gentleman who is drawn into the fair charmer's net, and only appear on the scenes when they perceive an opportunity of extracting money as the price of silence. "Now, sir," said Pierre, as he poured out a small glass of absinthe which M. Emile tossed off at a gulp, "I want you to act as my private detective and watch a certain house for me, and to inform me of everything that goes on there. You are to call here at least once every day, and if I am out you are to leave a written message in a sealed envelope. I will pay you well, provided you allow no one to become acquainted with your movements, and you are not to tell a single soul as to where I am, or what I am doing. Is that well understood?" "Oh, monsieur, if you only knew me better, you would be convinced that you have selected the best private detective in all Paris. I have frequently undertaken little commissions of this sort when travelling for my firm." "Good! That will do. Now what do you consider a fair return for doing me this service?" "Ah! I see monsieur is generous--I leave it to him." "Well," said Pierre, lighting a fresh cigarette, and blowing a few whiffs in silence, "let me see. Supposing I pay you ten francs a day. What do you say to that?" "Oh, mon cher monsieur!--" "Don't address me as 'mon cher,'" Pierre interrupted. "Please remember you are my servant, and not my equal." "Pardon, monsieur, a thousand apologies, it was my great appreciation of your nobility of character that warmed my heart towards you and impelled me to say this." "Look here, Monsieur Emile, if you think you are going to get round me by that sort of blarney you're jolly mistaken. Tell me what you are prepared to accept, and don't try on any more of your monkey-brand soap on me, it won't wash. You'll provoke me to say something in a moment that you won't like. Now out with it. How much?"